Butterfly Kisses
by ProjectSynapse
Summary: When Bra comes home past curfew one night, what will Vegeta's fatherly instincts tell him to do? *One-Shot*


**This story pretty much speaks for itself. It's a quick snapshot giving us a cross-section of the relationship Vegeta and his daughter share. I hope you like. ^^**

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Butterfly Kisses

It was late. That was the only thing pounding in the prince's mind as he stalked down the hallway in the darkness. More importantly, he added mentally, _she_ was late.

Vegeta came to the end of the hallway, turning to face the white door which was sparsely decorated with pink flowers and glitter. These little accessories had been added by Bra herself at a very young age. Vegeta let a soft breath escape his nostrils as he reflected on the days when she wanted nothing more than a ride on Daddy's back or a kiss on the nose. Back then, butterfly kisses were meaningless to him, and he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with eyelash greetings or any other "stupid earthling rituals". But now, as he stood outside the room of his youngest, he wished that he could go back to the days when it was secret butterfly kisses ("And don't you _dare _tell your mother that I do this, brat," he would warn her each night) before bedtime, and not exasperating arguments or broken curfews.

He listened to the sound of his daughter breathing frantically as she kicked off her clothes and quickly slid into her pajamas. He waited until she jumped into her bed and pulled the covers over herself before he quietly pushed open the door and entered the dark room. Bra was lying on her side, facing the door with her arms tightly pulled against her body and her breathing slow and even. He smirked as he approached. At least she had taken something from their early training sessions. Her breathing was perfect, just the way he himself had taught her to do right before a fight.

He knelt down beside her, watching her eyelids for any signs of movement. She didn't give him anything. Just like her mother, he thought; always playing things through to the very end. Too stubborn to acknowledge her loss in the game.

Vegeta stroked her soft blue locks and smiled sorrowfully. "Such a good daughter," he whispered softly to himself. "It's such a pity her mother and I will be getting a divorce."

Bra's eyes snapped open and her head shot upward. "What?!"

He chuckled at her instantaneous reaction and folded his arms, so pleased with his trick that he didn't even bother to mention that this was the second time it had worked on her in a month. Bra wasn't so amused. "Dad!" she scowled, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face angrily. "That's not funny! Some kids' parents really _do_ get divorced!"

"And some kids actually listen to their parents when they say 'be home by midnight'," Vegeta countered in a more serious tone.

Bra sighed. "Yeah, and some kids don't have fathers who can sense their presence and never cut them even a little bit of slack." She threw the covers back and brought her knees up to her chest. "It wouldn't kill you to let me off the hook once in a while, you know. I was only twenty minutes late."

Her father frowned. "I don't care if you're a second past curfew. You're grounded for a week. No cell phone, either."

"Ugh! Are you kidding me?" the half-saiyan flopped backwards onto her comforter. "You guys are Nazis."

The prince's nose twitched, and he raised an eyebrow in confusion. Then he returned to his original pose; arms folded, and answered, a bit unsure of himself, "No…we are _not _"Z"s. And if that's another of those idiotic teenage slang terms-"

"No, Dad," she rolled her eyes. "Nazis. Like…Hitler? Germany, 1940s? You really need to read up on your Earth history," she commented, mimicking her father's actions by folding her arms. He noticed, however, that she didn't fold them in quite the same irritated way that he did. Her slender arms always found their way together in the manner of her mother; dripping with attitude.

Vegeta chewed the edge of his lip. "Two weeks," he stated simply, then stood to leave the room.

"Daddy!" Bra squealed out in protest, kicking her feet against the mattress. "That's not fair!"

He turned back to face her, but instead of seeing his teenage daughter rebelling against his wishes, he saw his four-year-old daughter, kicking her feet in protest to bath time. She was sitting on the same bed, feet barely tipping over the edge, but still producing the same sound as they pounded against the soft mattress. Her hair was pulled up into bouncy pigtails, and her face was so red that she looked as though she was about to burst.

"But I don't want to take a bath! I'm still clean from last time!" Bra shrieked, much to the disdain of her father's sensitive ears. "Daddy!" she cried, "It's not fair!"

He thought about simply picking her up and dunking her into the tub, clothes and all. But playing the scene in his head, he foresaw much more crying and shouting that way. So, looking over his shoulder into the hallway to make sure her mother was no where in ear-shot, he knelt down to Bra's eyelevel. "Come on, brat. It is time for your bath."

"I don't wanna."

"Fine. But what if I told you that if you get in the bath now, I will tell you a bedtime story when you are finished?" he raised his eyebrows at the little blue-haired girl, adding to the effect of enticing her.

Bra folded her arms and looked at him, unconvinced. Finally, her face softened as an idea passed over her features. She leaned forward and draped her arms around his neck in an embrace, whispering into his ear, "And butterfly kisses, too?" as a bonus to the offer.

She felt his face tighten into a smile against her soft little cheek. "Yes, my princess. But only after you complete your end of the deal."

She squealed with delight and hugged his neck tightly before skipping off to the bathroom. Vegeta watched his daughter leave, traces of a smirk lingering despite himself at her likeness to his wife. They both knew exactly how to get their way out of him.

It was then that it occurred to Vegeta that he was not convincing his daughter to take a bath, and she was not four years old anymore. She was sitting in front of him, shooting a glare in his direction that could only be produced by the prince's daughter. His face softened slightly as he took in her classic Vegeta scowl. "Dad, it's just not fair that I have to be watched so closely by you and Mom. I mean, I'm pretty much an adult now. I'm in high school! And besides, I can bench more than any of the boys in my class. I can take care of myself just fine."

Vegeta hesitated before walking back toward her bed and sitting down beside her. Fatherhood was surely making him soft. "Bra, your mother and I know what's best for you. We have rules, and when those rules are broken, you need to be punished so that you understand that we are serious." She frowned at his classic "dad" response. "But," he continued, evoking a second look from her. "If you will obey our wishes and be home _on time_ for the rest of this week…then I suppose I could make an exception for tonight."

A look of complete elation engulfed the teen's face. "So you're letting me off the hook?" she asked excitedly.

"For tonight. Only this _one _time," he reminded her sternly.

"Oh, thank you, Daddy! Thank you, thank you!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck just as she used to when she was a toddler. Vegeta gave her no response, but allowed her to hug him tightly as she celebrated her new chance at freedom. After a moment had passed, he finally pulled himself from her grasp and began to walk away from her bedside, heading back for his room. But, a small noise behind him made him stop.

"Daddy?" Bra called out into the darkness after him.

"Yes, Bra?" He pivoted once more, looking down at the lump of covers with his daughter's head poking from it. She didn't answer right away, so he asked, "What is it?"

She looked up at him, her bright eyes shining into the blackness. "Butterfly kisses?"

He let a smile escape as he leaned down to comply. After all these years, one thing remained the same. She would always be Daddy's little princess, and there would always be butterfly kisses at bedtime. "And don't you _dare_ tell your mother."

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